Location: Docked over the Deep Woods
Time: Noontime
After three days of resting, I’m pleased to report that my crew is fully recovered and ready to stop lazing about whining about their aches and pains and start being as useful as they are capable. I must say I’m eager for morrow’s dawn to come; the sooner we can leave, the better. Not that it hasn’t been nice having some down time, just enjoying the sun and the moans of suffering from my crew. Er… I mean, spending time bonding with my wonderful, knowledgeable crew. Either or. Their suffering that resulted from the injuries they received didn’t last long after my last report; yesterday a priestess of the jellyfish demigod showed up on deck. To be honest I have no idea how she got there, but as the Hatter and the only halfway coherent and therefore only halfway sane Cheshire Cat were plotting to sacrifice her to some heathen god, the White Rabbit interceded on her behalf and argued for not murdering her. I stood as the judge in the situation, but didn’t have long to celebrate my position; the priestess of the Jellyfish Demigod was obviously quite taken with my Rabbit friend. She used her powers to heal him… and, while she was preoccupied, Hatter lifted some healing potions she was hiding in a pouch. So, in the end, not sacrificing her worked out for everyone.
From that point on, the White Rabbit took over responsibility for the health of the crew as well as that of the ship. It works out quite nicely thus far; he’s just the organized sort that is fanatical enough to be good at such a task, even if he isn’t too fond of any of the people under his charge. I do enjoy those who live their lives bound by obligation. He’s not completely benign about his appointment as ship medic, I suspect… when I pushed Cheshire before him for whatever healing he could provide, Rabbit’s solution was to make our feline companion lick a strange moss growing on the ship's bilge bump. The White Rabbit claims it was an act of desperation, but I am more then sure I caught him laughing to himself as Cheshire did it. Nevertheless, it seems to have worked… when I examined him, Cheshire’s pinky’s as good as new. At least… I think so…
As we progressively got healthier and healthier, we took the time to clean and make repairs. Once he got to moving about, the Cheshire Cat discovered a pile of spoiled grunny meat in the cargo hold. It was, I’ll admit, difficult to keep Diedrich from taking a nibble to found out what he’d taste like, but we managed to dispose of it. We’ve probably avoided an outbreak of food poisoning, and yet the most obvious benefit is that the green creature missed an opportunity to be disgusting. The engine room has been restored to working condition; it meets Rabbit’s standards on cleanliness and stands up to the Dormouse’s olfactory demands. The cow that was the source of all the trouble was cleaning disposed of, and in the three days we’ve been stationary I haven’t seen so much as a glimpse of a humanoid with fangs.
Speaking of vampires… I haven’t spoken to any of my crew about it, but I do feel as if their presence somehow lingers here on the Devil’s Claw, watching me. It probably is just paranoia, combined with my bruised pride… I don’t pretend that the vampire that secreted itself onto my ship without my notice did so without any resentment on my part. It feels like they’re laughing at me… I don’t like that feeling, not at all. So while my crew has been recovering I’ve been keeping a constant vigil, hardly sleeping as I patrol the narrow passages of our vessel. Only once did I see some indication of their presence; a black bat swooped over low over my head, a small cache of bullets clutched in his claws. I gave chase, but it was as if the winged rodent could move through shadows; I lost him quickly, and he was too small to attack with my scythe, which was all I had with me at the time. It drove me quite mad at the time… even now, I’m irritated thinking about it.
Ah… I have an idea. Let’s change the subject.
I take pride and complete responsibility for our crew making it through these three days alive. So after a hearty double lunch in honor of the Feast of Two Dinners, I snuck down the anchor and explored around the forest floor; it took little time to find a stream with perfectly gentle warm waters running east that I was happy with. It was bliss to enjoy a private bath; privacy on a ship full of men is rare, and a private bath even rarer. After forcing Diedrich and the Dormouse to haul me back on deck, I retired to my captain’s quarters and brewed some tea. I am positive my crew can survive on their own without my supervision for a while, so I’m going to try lying down for an afternoon nap. Hopefully sleep after 72 hours of fanatical vampire patrolling will calm my nerves…
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Location: Docked over the Deep WoodsTime: Early Morning Hours
Ah… ahem, this is the White Rabbit. Due to some… odd circumstances, I am taking over for our captain to log the night’s rather unusual events. I assumed that such a task would be taken up by the first mate, which would be that idiot Hatter, but nooooo… apparently, he’s allergic to any form of responsibility. I suppose some would call his current monitoring of that Hare loyalty; I, however, call it incompetence or guilt. The girl’s sleeping like the dead; he could write and hold vigil at the same time. Lazy fool… not that I’d say that to his face, mind you. I’ve heard stories about the Hatter when he goes mad… I’d rather not be made into a delectable stew, thank you very much.
Ahem… now, to the events of the evening. It was dark and the crew was busying themselves with individual pursuits on our last night stationary. The Dormouse was, obviously, already asleep; he fell asleep in the hallway, drooling like a slob. The Cheshire Cat was nowhere to be seen, but I highly suspect he has taken to curling up in the crown’s nest and sleeping the day away… and most of the night. Another lazy crewman; shameful. Chamomile Hare went to lie down for a nap roughly after noon; I suppose I can grudgingly allow her that. She’s been a passable captain… and trust me, I’m surprised to say it. So I was left to patrol, doing double duty as guard and checking there are no more repairs to be made before we cast off in the morning. Oddly enough, I found myself accompanied by a strangely silent Hatter. It was eerie, and I spent most of the beginning of our walk wondering if the man was planning to murder me in the bowls of the ship.
”Did you hear that?” the Hatter spoke up, interrupting my internal contemplation of whether or not I could use my abilities in defense before he could use his offensively.
”No, not at all.” I replied reflexively. This is often the most logical answer to any such question from the Mad Hatter; more often then not, any sounds he hear are sounds that exist only in his mind. I didn’t glance the dark haired man’s way as we walked, praying that his voices wouldn’t turn on me.
I expected some sort of explanation, but the Hatter gave nothing of the sort. He stayed silent, his steps slowing to a stop. I continued forward for a fraction of a second before I turned with a sigh… after all, denizens of Wonderland are curious if nothing else. The Mad Hatter wasn’t looking at me; he seemed to be intently studying a door that spidered off down another hallway that lead to the weapons room, a storage closet, and the captain’s quarters. There was an odd, dark look on the man’s face, and though I felt nothing but wariness towards him I spoke briskly, impatiently.
”What are you looking at, Hatter?”
He ignored me, or maybe he couldn’t even hear me; either way he reached out to turn the handle and pushed the door inwards, ignoring my indignant sputtering. Something about his demeanor made me uneasy, and it didn’t decrease as the Hatter moved down the hall. I followed him almost out of instinct, making sure the frown on my face was burning into the back of his skull.
”Hatter, where do you think you’re going? You’d better not be going to bother that Hare… I’m doctor now, and I won’t have it. She’ll be nuts and strangling the Dormouse in minutes if she doesn’t get her sleep.” I said disapprovingly. He ignored me and continued onwards, his impudence causing a vein in my forehead to throb in the unhealthiest of ways. ”Damn it, Hatter… for once, you should listen to me! I’m telling you, it’s healthiest for all involved if we just leave her to sleep! If the Dormouse dies, we’ll die of starvation, the whole lot of us. You know damn well I can’t cook, and the other two are completely useless in that respect…””Be quiet.” the Hatter interrupted me without turning my way.
”Hatter, you..!” My unhealthy tic got unhealthier.
The Mad Hatter turned towards me quiet violently and I stiffened, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I tightened my grip on my pocket watch. But he did not attack; his expression was serious as he glared at me, lifted a single finger to his lips to indicate silence, and turned to move forward again. I sighed in resignation… but softly, so the Hatter wouldn’t hear. After all, perhaps I was jumping to conclusions… he could just be heading to the storage closet for a tasty snack. I kept chanting that possibility to myself even as we snuck past the storage closet and the Hatter, standing tense, reached for the doorknob to the Captain’s quarters. The door swung open without so as much as a whisper to reveal the room inside. It was bathed in moonlight that streamed in through the glass windowpanes, illuminating this journal lying atop the writing desk, an alarming stockpile of tea and tea accessories, and the bed against the back wall in which the Lady March Hare slept. Like her or not, Chamomile is a lady, and it’s indecent for gentlemen to enter a young woman’s room when she’s sleeping. My anger grew and I opened my mouth to tell my companion so, but he nudged the door open a fraction of an inch more, and the words became lodged in my throat.
Her form was obscured by a dark figure made ambiguous by a full-length black cloak, the thick fabric revealing only that the form was that of a male. The covers were pulled down so that I could clearly see the white nightgown that covered her shins and her bare feet, her form illuminated by the moonlight. Her body was completely limp, and the stranger had forced her back into a gentle arch with a hand while the other supported her neck. Chamomile looked more doll-like then I could ever remember seeing her; her head hung back and her lips were parted, her eyes closed and an extremely discerning expression clearly visible on her alarmingly pale face. The end of her bright pink pigtail and a single hand dangled over the edge of the bed as the intruder knelt over her, his lips to her throat…
It took only half a second for the shock to wear off, and a startled shout escaped me.
”HEY! You, get away from her!”
The Mad Hatter didn’t seem willing to waste time with words; he stepped forward instantly, clearly intent on attack. But the figure would have none of it; he dissolved into a dark cloud of smoke and slid effortlessly away from the Hatter towards the window, escaping through an infinitesimal gap between the window panes. Chamomile fell heavily back onto her pillow without a sound, and as I moved towards her I thought I heard a soft, dark chuckle. The Hatter was stopped by the glass of the window; I heard him growling obscenities under his breath as I sat on the edge of the bed. The Lady March Hare remained gently sleeping; were it not for the twin spots seeping blood on her neck I’d have thought that what I had witnessed had simply been my imagination, or some madness of the Hatter’s catching.
”Curses… what was that thing?” I grumbled as I retrieved my handkerchief from my waist coat, pressing the fine material to the wound in the girl’s neck. Chamomile is naturally quite pale, but her current visage concerned me; I took the time to press my fingers to her neck. There was a pulse… it was faint, but it was there.
”That… was a vampire.” the Mad Hatter replied, his tone somewhat stiff. ”Damn… I was hoping with bait like this, he would be distracted enough for the two of us to take him down before he could escape. Guess not… damn.”
”Bait…?” I mumbled, blinking in surprise as I glanced back to the Hatter. ”You… you can’t mean that you knew this would happen?!””Of course I did.” the Mad Hatter said suspiciously as he came to stand at my side, keeping his eyes on the windows… just in case, I suppose. ”They’ve been watching her for a while, now… I have no idea why they’re settled on her. I was hoping that vampire could be persuaded to enlighten us.”
”You… you mean…” I frowned, looking down at our captain. ”You set her up for this? …..hah! And I thought the two of you were the closest of friends! I’ve never been this wrong!”
The Mad Hatter didn’t reply, so I continued huffily.
”Well, she’ll live, if you care to know. She’ll be more then a little bit anemic; who knows how long that monster was at her.” I sniffed, grabbing Chamomile’s arm and plopping it back on her stomach. Her skin was unnaturally cold; I tugged the covers up to her chest importantly as I continued my scolding. ”We’ll have to rest here for a few more days so she’ll have time to recover. I can’t say I know how long it’ll take; I’ve never actually treated a vampire victim before.”
”She’ll be up and about by tomorrow.” the Hatter replied, his tone oddly stiff. Was his conscience getting to him? I didn’t look back to him to check; I was pleased enough to think of it and let him wallow. He continued a bit sullenly. ”She’s had worse. She’ll bounce back quick after such a small bite. Fast recovery rate and all.”
”Unlikely. ” I sniffed. ”And I don’t envy you the task of having to explain just what happened tonight to her. Knowing Miss. March here, she’ll maroon you.”
If that statement bothered the Mad Hatter in the slightest way, he made no indication of it. He didn’t speak, moving instead to quietly quit the room. I snorted in disdain, taking a moment to look down at the sleeping young woman with a small frown. She was sleeping deeply, completely ignorant of what had happened to her, of what betrayal she had suffered. Would the Hatter have some sort of explanation for her? Or was this just how their friendship was, destructive and prone to thoughtless sacrifice of one by the other? That thought was unsettling; I shook my head to rid myself of the odd surge of pity I felt for the pink haired rabbit girl. Though we both had the ears, we were not close; nor did I aim to be. Clearing my throat, I set about attempting to wake her; after several long moments her eyes fluttered open. She was only partially lucid, the blood loss and lack of sleep in the days before rendering her uncharacteristically weak. I did as much of an analysis as was possible before letting her drift back off to sleep. Sleep was what she needed; sleep and lots and lots of food. I made a note of it.
I lit some candles and took my position at the writing desk, hardly past my first paragraph before the Hatter returned. I paused to watch him from the corner of my eye; the man in the top hat dragged a chair over to the wall beside her bed, plopped down into it, leaned it on it’s back legs to brace the back of the chair against the wall, and slid the brim of his hat down over his eyes.
”Hatter… she’s sleeping. I’m only staying here to monitor her medical condition; it’s improper for any other man to be here when she’s sleeping.” I scolded.
The Mad Hatter laced his fingers together behind his head, but once again gave no indication that he had heard me. I muttered hateful things under my breath but gave up; it had already been far too strange of an evening to initiate another battle. And it is here that I end my report; with that Hatter behind me, asleep for all intents and purposes, and Chamomile slumbering with my best handkerchief tied around her neck. I’ll bill her for it later. I predict that we’ll require at least two more days for her health to be stable enough for movement, making us stuck here for a total of five days. Hopefully the last leg of our rest will be a safe one, a secure one… or, if neither of those, a vampire-free one would be pleasant.
I think I’ll tear out this part of the ship’s log and keep it to myself… at least for the time being. I’m not sure if I’ll talk to Chamomile about this event or not… but if I decide to, I want to hold all the cards. And if not… well, perhaps this particular telling is a little too blunt, even for that pink haired ignoramus. I’ll be a little gentler, perhaps… either way, exact recording of tonight’s events are most useful kept for my eyes only.
HH
